


(It's Okay If) The Journey Has Another Ending

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Driving, M/M, Moving In Together, Threesome - M/M/M, Vehicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-06
Updated: 2011-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Riv may not be the perfect all-weather, all-terrain vehicle for the Northwest Territories, but by God, Ray Vecchio isn't leaving Chicago without it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(It's Okay If) The Journey Has Another Ending

Vecchio drives the Riviera all the way up from Chicago. He takes I-94 to Wisconsin, drives through, stays on it through Minnesota, and starts cursing at the snow a few hours past Fargo, when he merges onto US-281 for the long trek northwest through North Dakota, changing over to US-52 about halfway there.

He crosses the border and ends up in Saskatchewan, and when he pulls off for gas, he beats his head on the steering wheel a few times. There is no way the Riv's coming out of this drive unscathed, unscratched, undented. Not a chance.

But it's his. It is _his fucking car_ , not the first one he bought and maybe not the last one either, but it's _his_ , and he was not leaving Chicago without it, no matter what Kowalski said.

"Seriously," Kowalski had said, "you're gonna want four-wheel drive up here. Hell, with your ass and how cold it gets at night, you're gonna want something with heated seats. The Riv was luxury in the _seventies_. Get something that works for where you're going."

Vecchio was torn between wanting to say something about how Kowalski had never complained about his ass before, and something about how Kowalski had the GTO and had he ditched it his first winter out there? No he had _not_ \--but in the end, Fraser took the phone from Kowalski and said, "Ray, I can't wait until you get here. We're _both_ looking forward to your arrival. Take all the time you need, of course, and _please_ drive safely, but you couldn't possibly be bringing us a better Christmas present."

"Yeah, well--spank Kowalski one for me, okay? What he said about the Riv, he owes me."

"Ray," Fraser said, sounding scandalized. "I think that's something I should let the two of you settle on your own."

"Believe me," Vecchio said, and Fraser made that soft, squeaky noise he sometimes made when Vecchio muttered in Italian. Vecchio grinned. "I gotta go, okay? I need to get some sleep. It's a long road trip."

"Yes, it is, Ray," Fraser said, suddenly serious. "If anything should go wrong, please don't hesitate to call--"

"Nothing's gonna go wrong!" Vecchio insisted. "Nobody's gonna ask me to shoot it, nobody's gonna drive it into a lake, what could happen?"

In a hotel room in Regina, he closes his eyes and drapes his arms over his face. _What could happen_ , he thinks, and he hopes the Riv starts up okay in the morning.

* * *

It does. It does, and he's back on the road, but he has to admit Kowalski has a point about the four-wheel drive. He keeps going, mile after mile (no, kilometer after kilometer, and he kind of likes that, he kind of likes that the kilometers stack up so much faster than the miles), past Saskatoon, into Edmonton. There's snow on the ground, but just a little; nothing's frozen over yet, so when he gets to the Yukon, things are still going pretty smooth.

He takes the Dempster Highway ferry and gets some admiring glances from the ferry workers, which makes it all worthwhile until one of them says, "Wow. Don't see many of those around here."

He grits his teeth and goes up top and has a cup of coffee. So _what_ if they don't see a lot of them, so _what_.

* * *

"You crazy son of a bitch," Kowalski says, but he throws his arms around Vecchio and hugs him tight, so tight, _God_ , Vecchio could have been here a _week_ ago if he'd just fucking taken a plane instead of the car.

But Kowalski's already got his hand in Vecchio's jacket, his hand sliding under Vecchio's shirt, and Vecchio opens his mouth, lets Kowalski slip his tongue inside. He's exhausted, his back feels like crap, and he hasn't had a decent meal in eight days, but he's _home_. He's home.

Kowalski drags him inside before either of them start pulling clothes off; he skips the nickel tour and pulls him straight into the bedroom, past a delighted-looking Fraser and a Diefenbaker who, for once, knows now is not the time to take a shot at Vecchio's ears. Vecchio hears the door close behind them, but he's too busy kissing Kowalski back to bother wondering if Fraser had Diefenbaker go out or stay in, if he remembered to close the Riv's door, if--whatever, _whatever_ , he's got his hands on Kowalski's lean little hips, he's pushing his tongue hard into Kowalski's mouth, and Kowalski's opening up for him like the best Christmas present ever.

He feels the bed dip down behind him a moment before Fraser joins their embrace; Fraser murmurs out " _Ray_ " and kisses the back of Vecchio's neck. Vecchio groans, and that's it, that's all she wrote--it's a flurry of clothes, Vecchio decides he doesn't care what gets ripped, what he smells like after a week in the car, he just goes with it, pulls at Kowalski's t-shirt, turns halfway around and starts yanking at Fraser's buttons.

"Me, me first, me," Kowalski pants, spreading his legs, condom and lube already in hand. He drizzles lube on his fingers, slides them into himself, and Vecchio holds himself suspended, watching. This is _his_ \--he gets to be here, now, gets to watch this, watch Kowalski opening himself up and inviting Vecchio in, and Vecchio tears into the condom and knocks Kowalski's hands to his sides, getting them out of his way. He surges forward, burying himself deep in Kowalski's body, and they groan in unison, fierce and loud, as Kowalski clutches Vecchio to him and whispers, "finally, _finally_ , you motherfucker, _missed_ you, fuck me, c'mon, finally, God..."

As he starts moving, Fraser's moving, too. Fraser keeps kissing the back of Vecchio's neck for a while, but then there's more--he licks down the center of Vecchio's back, kisses and nibbles and licks, and Vecchio thinks he knows where Fraser's going, but Jesus Christ, really? Now? After--oh, God, but he remembers: Fraser's not afraid of anything, Fraser's tongue isn't afraid of anything, and Vecchio spreads his legs, making room for Fraser as best he can between them.

Fraser stops, though, just at the top of Vecchio's crack, and he murmurs, "Me, too, Ray? Please?"

And right now Ray's just greedy enough and desperate enough and giddy enough with that sensation of being _home_ that he's willing to go for it, that he's willing to do anything, _be_ anything--for these two men, for the men he loves, he'll give them anything they need.

So when Fraser needs to be inside Vecchio, Vecchio doesn't argue. He rests his head on Kowalski's shoulder, lets Kowalski pet the back of his head as Fraser opens him up, carefully, gently, using lots of lube.

And then Fraser's pushing in, burying himself deep, driving Vecchio into Kowalski into the mattress, and God, _yes_ , this is what he wants, this is what he _always_ wants, Fraser behind him, Kowalski in front of him, or Kowalski behind him or Fraser behind Kowalski and just anything, _everything_ , they've got their whole fucking lives ahead of them and just--

He's not sure who finishes first, but he knows that Kowalski starts pushing at his chest after they're all done. "Heavy," Kowalski mumbles. "Come on--"

Fraser rolls off him, Vecchio rolls off Kowalski, and the bed, thank God, is big enough for three. Vecchio falls asleep in perfect, blissful contentment.

* * *

They have to special-order Vecchio's new car, but he doesn't mind. It means he gets all the bells and whistles--four-wheel drive, 5.3 liter V8, _heated motherfucking seats_ , cashmere leather. Green metallic paint job, and the hell with anybody who gives him shit for it. It can carry Kowalski, Fraser, Dief, and a whole sled team if they need one.

The back nameplate says _Rainier_ and not _Riviera_. When Kowalski catches Vecchio looking at it, he winces a little. "You miss it?" he asks.

"Eh," Vecchio says; it costs him, a little, but he means it. "Rainier, you know? Big mountain. Snowy. Kinda more my speed these days."

Kowalski flashes him a grin; there's a shadow of relief in it, too. "Yeah. Mine too. Funny about that." He comes a little closer and presses up against Vecchio, and Vecchio wraps his arms around Kowalski's waist. "Best thing about it, though?"

"Yeah?"

"It's big enough we can christen it with three." Kowalski grins. "Want to hop in the back seat while I get Fraser?"

"Oh, hell no--you think I'm getting lube all over the upholstery, think again--"

But Kowalski's smirking, walking backwards toward the house. Vecchio shakes his head and calls out, "Bring _towels_ , dammit," and Kowalski smirks all the harder as he goes in the front door.

 _-end-_


End file.
